Weapon
by Supreme Distraction
Summary: If Riven relied too much on her weapon, it was because the blade—broken or not—was oftentimes the only thing she *could* rely on. Until a certain thief stole her heart, that is.
1. A Simple Meeting, a Simple Request

Note: This is set before Riven's induction into the League. She's merely a wandering mercenary. And I used skins, 'cause they're purdy. Exile Riven and Infiltrator Irelia, don't ya' know.

Originally, I intended this to be a one-shot, but I decided on some shorter chapters instead. Hopefully that helps with the flow of things, seeing as this happens over a period of maybe a few months :3 Enjoy! Especially you, **GoG ToXiC**—good suggestion!

**-A Simple Meeting, a Simple Request-**

Demacia was an old-fashioned city made of stone and steel, horse-drawn carriages picking their way along narrow, winding cobblestone streets. It was divided into three zones surrounded by an impenetrable wall: at the center of the network of pathways sat the royal palace—an immense stone fortress swarming with armor-clad soldiers and impeccably dressed blue-bloods; the second zone consisted of squat buildings with smoking chimneys—blacksmiths, shoemakers, and other such sources of commerce; the third and outermost sector was the residential zone, consisting of many thatch-roofed houses of various shapes and sizes. Barns, stables, and fields of assorted grains and vegetables cropped up wherever there was room, the citizens working together to care for their livelihoods.

A woman stood at the palace gates, looking up from under the teal hood she wore. There was a ponderous look on her pretty face and she reached up to push silver strands of hair from her eyes, lowering it to rest on the giant sword at her hip. She wore a golden spaulder on her left shoulder and a wide, gold disk on her right wrist, a silver corset-like breastplate, vambraces, and knee-high boots for an asymmetrical sort of look that made her stand out among the uniform armor the Demacian soldiers wore.

She was clearly an outsider.

One of the guards standing in the tower overlooking the wooden gate noticed her and called down, "Hail, traveler. What business do you have with Demacia?"

"I've been hired by Prince Jarvan IV for added security." The woman's voice was somber, quiet, and it took a moment for her words to register.

"Ah! You must be Riven." The gate began to lift with the clanking of turning gears and the rattle of chains. "Please, go right on in. The Prince is in the throne room."

Riven, as she was called, nodded and ducked under the rising barrier, heading straight through the wide, open courtyard, her dark brown eyes flicking from the training dummies being used by soldiers to perfect combat moves to the fragrant garden to the nobles reclining in the sun, the latter of which looked at her with curious gazes and murmured amongst themselves.

There were buildings that formed a ring around the courtyard, the largest of which—the throne room—was directly across from the entry gate. The warrior strode inside, her footsteps muffled by the thick red carpet, and crossed the room towards a small, circular table where a tall man with an ornate suite of gold armor, his well-muscled body revealed by the black cloth that covered any bit of un-armored flesh, was gesturing to a scroll, clearly giving orders to his companion, a shorter man with a ruggedly handsome face and dark clothes criss-crossed with leather belts and metal bits of armor.

The taller man was the prince of Demacia, Jarvan Lightshield IV. He looked up at her, his young face lined with the stress of his position, though his smile erased some of that tiredness. "Riven. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Since her exile from Noxus, the woman had been wandering between Demacia, Piltover, and Zaun, offering her services to whomever needed them and she had built up quite a name for herself.

"Of course. What is it that you require?"

"Dismissed, Garen. We will speak later."

The soldier saluted, shot Riven an appraising look, and exited the room.

Jarvan IV turned to his guest, his expression dead serious. "A little bird has informed me that our coffers are in danger of becoming drastically lighter and I need your talents to ensure that such a thing does not occur. You'll be paid handsomely, of course."

Riven nodded. "My blade is yours, Prince."

"Excellent. My home is at your disposal—the training grounds, the kitchen, the library…" Here, he looked to the blade at her hip. "I have an excellent blacksmith who could repair your sword for you—"

"Thank you for the generous offer, but I would rather it stay broken," the Exile interrupted, bowing her head apologetically when she realized how rude she was being. "Its state is symbolic to me."

"Say no more." The brunette gestured expansively. "Please, enjoy your stay here in Demacia. If there's anything you require, feel free to ask me."

* * *

"A blade mirrors its owner…"—it was an old adage that Riven lived and breathed by.

That was why she spent time polishing her greatsword every morning as she was now, just before practicing a series of attack combos to keep her wits and reflexes sharp. She could feel eyes watching her as she rose from where she had been sitting cross-legged under a tree with wide boughs in the center of the courtyard and headed over to the training dummies, but she ignored them.

Why concern herself with what others did or thought?

The sun was still struggling to rise above the horizon, its pink-orange light casting faint shadows and causing her armor to glint. She was running late. Normally, she was up before even the sun.

The silver-haired warrior raised her blade before her and it glowed a toxic green; she took a deep, steadying breath before executing a chain of swift flips and slashes, her _Broken Wings _striking the magic-enforced straw doll with enough force to send it reeling. She didn't pause in her assault even as she registered the approach of another, murmuring, "The time for talk is over…" as the blade became whole once again, the sickly emerald energy that suffused it solidifying into an edge sharp enough to cut through almost any material.

She released a shout as she swung her weapon, dark eyes glowing green for a brief moment as she released a _Wind Slash_—a shockwave of like-coloured energy that lashed out in a conical shape, shattering the training dummy's protective spell and rending the unfortunate object in two.

As it hit the ground a few meters away, there was a slow, almost mocking round of applause.

"Impressive."

Riven turned her head to look over her shoulder: a striking young woman with long, burgundy hair was leaning against the tree she had moved away from moments before, her petite form covered almost completely in metal—from her spaulders to the clawed gauntlets on her hands to the skirt-like protrusions from her hips, to the knee-high boots on her feet. She didn't appear to be armed and Riven sensed no ill intent, but the silver-haired fighter knew better than to let her guard down—there was no telling what this woman's intentions were.

There was no one else around as it was far too early for the spoiled blue-bloods to be out of bed, much less outdoors.

"Who are you?" the warrior demanded, clutching the hilt of her greatsword a bit more firmly.

"No need for that." Bright blue eyes flicked to the blade at her hip and a faint smile curved the woman's pale pink lips. "I mean you no harm."

Despite her words, her fingers twitched restlessly—as though searching for a weapon.

"Answer the question."

"Are you _always_ this friendly?" The woman laughed, the sound like birdsong, and Riven felt strangely inclined to join her, though she wasn't sure of the joke. Her gaze flicked around, clearly searching for something (or someone), but they returned quickly to her present company. "We should talk some other time—I really must be off. I was passing through and I couldn't help but watch." There was something… suggestive? about her tone, but again, the warrior wasn't sure of what was being suggested exactly. "Until we meet again."

The Exile took a step forward, a protest in her throat,—she, a guardian of the royal family's possessions, couldn't very well allow this strange person to walk around as she wished—but the sound died out before it could emerge.

The mysterious woman had disappeared without a trace.

-w-

"I warned you against approaching anyone, did I not?" the shorter woman demanded through the green cloth that hid the lower portion of her face. The rest of her was clothed in a rather revealing one piece with a flowing loincloth, pouches of various herbal remedies, weapons, and the like hidden within its green folds, and a pair of chopsticks stuck out of long brown hair, pinning it up in a ponytail. "Your willful foolishness will be your undoing."

The burgundy-haired assassin pushed her companion off of her and very purposefully brushed off her shoulders. "I know what I'm doing, Akali. Relax."

Akali bristled. "Do you? And that is why you've thrown caution to the wind—for what?"

"I was curious."

"No errant curiosity is worth failing your mission. Unless, of course, you do not care about what happens to Ionia."

"Ionia shall not fall," she snapped, bristling righteously.

The brunette sighed. "I am doing you a favor because my master is old friends with your master. I wish you would at least make an attempt to cooperate."

"Master Yi is more of a wise old guru to me. He has advised me in combat before, but I have never studied under him like you have with Shen," she corrected. "And I _have_ been listening to you."

"Have you?" There was disbelief in her tone. "Then pleasecontinue to stay _out of sight_. This means no speaking to anyone or approaching anyone—especially not that mercenary. The less Demacians who know of our presence, the better."

"Why? She isn't exactly tied to Demacia, so why would it matter if—"

"No. Contact."

"Ugh. _Fine."_

Akali canted her head to the right, extending her unusually sharp senses outwards. "I must return to my village. We shall meet again in one week's time."

"One week," the red-head woman repeated duly. As the shorter woman turned to leave, she said, "Akali?"

"What is it?"

"Thank you. I may not be the best of assassins just yet, but with your training, I will be."

"Hmph." Still, the brunette nodded before she disappeared in a bubble of smoke.

"Damnit, Karma," the woman muttered. "What's gotten into you?"

Ever since the dark-skinned leader of the Ionian resistance had discovered her powers' propensity for destruction, she had been on a quest to right the wrongs that Noxus had committed against their homeland. And, while that was all fine and dandy, the past month had been riddled with espionage, secret meetings, whispers of rebellion, and training, training, more training. Things had gotten deadly serious after the Enlightened One had recruited the aid of the honor-bound shadow warriors known as the Kinkou.

All of this really was a pain.

"_Irelia."_

The woman flinched, still not used to hearing her leader's voice in her head like that. "Yes?"

"_Return to Ionia. I have news for you—a change of plans."_

"Fine."

Irelia sighed and her weapon, four ornate blades whirling around a pulsating core of magical energy at their meeting point, appeared next to her, bobbing patiently. It had been created by her father… His life's work and the last thing he had done before some mysterious illness had taken him from her and her young brother. The warrior rested a hand on the core, felt the warmth that it gave off, and imagined that it was her father's approval. He would have wanted her to do this—to restore their precious Ionia back to the way it had been before Noxus had struck it a terrible blow.

She hopped onto the blade as though it were a balance beam, centering her balance as she crouched low, and it began to gain altitude.

This plan would have to work—it just had to.

**-End Chapter-**


	2. A Summoning, a Ball

I've gotten so many favourites and follows and yet so little feedback. I am disappoint. For those of you who review, thank you. For those of you who don't…

Humph.

**-A Summoning, a Ball-**

"Keep your back straight! How do you expect to move properly like that?"

Irelia groaned, but straightened her spine, yelping and twisting out of the way a moment later as a slim form lunged towards her.

"Much better."

Baby blue orbs flicked to the tree behind the spot where she had just been standing: there was a dent in the thick trunk where the impact of her make-shift mentor's fist had driven into it. "Are you _trying _to kill me?"

They had been at this for hours without pause, the brunette seemingly trying her best to make the Will of the Blades collapse from exhaustion.

"Not yet..."

Again, the carmine-haired woman was forced to react far more quickly than her brain could process and she went cartwheeling backwards, landing in a crouch and waving her hand in front of her just in time to summon her blades to block the cloud of kunai that came flying at her.

"… But good idea."

'_What?!'_

No time to be incredulous, for the kunoichi was a green blur once again, a wicked laugh leaving her as she pushed her student to the limit. "Come now, girl, keep up!"

The fighter became a blur herself, her muscles screaming as she pursued the other Champion. "You're _younger _than me!"

"Age is but a number." One of her kama whipped by, laying open a thin cut across Irelia's cheek before embedding itself in a wooden fence post and the red-head swore vehemently.

Leaving her alone with this violent, crazy ninja chick—_'Damnit, Karma!'_

* * *

"How was training?"

Irelia pouted, turning her head away as a tall, brown-skinned woman garbed in a purple dress-like outfit with a slit all the way up to the middle of her thigh on either side and an odd mantle that resembled antlers placed a gentle hand over the cut on her cheek. There was a gentle warmth as the flesh was magically stitched together. "Hmph."

"You aren't cross with me, are you?"

There was actual concern to her voice and the Ionian relented. There were bags under her companion's dark eyes and a weary slump to her shoulders. "No, Karma, I'm not upset."

Karma smiled. "Join me for lunch?"

"You're paying."

Together, the pair exited the infirmary and headed down a narrow dirt path, the taller of the two looking around the home that she was rebuilding with a proud sort of happiness that erased the stress from her visage for a brief moment. "The village is doing well."

"All thanks to you," the red-haired warrior responded truthfully. It was Karma who had put her heart and soul into a place that had been thought to be lost; Karma who had beaten all odds and breathed life into their tiny hometown. "What will you name your legacy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're our glorious leader. It should be renamed after you."

"Is "New Ionia" not adequate?"

"Tch. No."

Irelia pushed open the curtain of beads that hung in the doorway to _Trinity—_her favorite eatery. It was a popular spot and the civilians inside let out a cheer as their leader and village hero entered the establishment.

"Miss Irelia, I want to be a great warrior just like you when I grow up!"

"Lady Karma, please allow us to treat you girls to a hot meal."

"Can I touch your weapon?"

"Is it true that you're only eighteen?"

"You're so beautiful…"

"Show us your magic, Lady Karma!"

The Enlightened One held up a hand and, instantly, the chaos halted. There was something about the mage that soothed even the most ferocious of beasts.

"Please allow us some peace and quiet," the woman murmured. "My companion and I are on important business."

As the crowd dispersed, the two took a seat at the bar and Karma suddenly became glued to the menu.

"Tch. I knew there was more to your lunch invitation. What do you want, exactly?"

"I have troubling news." Her voice was hushed, secretive. "That woman you spoke of—"

"You know who she is?" The outburst left her before she could help it—for some reason, that stoic warrior had been a source of fascination for her inquisitive mind ever since their brief meeting.

She received a quelling look. "Keep your voice down. Her name is Riven and she's evidently a force to be reckoned with. She's currently a sword-for-hire under the employ of Prince Jarvan IV."

_Wait… _"He couldn't possibly know of our plans, could he?"

"Word travels," Karma responded grimly. "We will simply need to tighten up our own security. That is the reason we are speaking here rather than in the council room. I feel as though the walls have ears."

It was only after the striking woman had fallen silent that the hostess—a slim brunette with hazel eyes—dared to approach the pair. "Lady Karma, Miss Irelia—how nice to see you. The usual?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Rem. Make that two."

"What's 'the usual'?"

"The most incredible platter of tender, juicy meat you've ever tasted."

"Irelia, I'm a vegetarian…"

Rem returned with steaming platters and the Enlightened One's stomach gave a low rumble.

"Just this once won't hurt., Karma."

"…"

* * *

The guilty expression that Karma wore after their meal was hilarious to say the least: it was as though the woman was envisioning the adorable, fluffy face that the rack of ribs had once possessed.

"That was delicious," she chirped.

"I…" A sigh left her.

"It's either eat or be eaten, Karma. You know that."

It was ridiculous how kind and empathetic the mage tried to be—ridiculous and unrealistic. The world was a horrible place and it was astonishing how ignorant of that fact Karma could seem despite the fact that she was older and more worldly.

"That isn't how things _should _be."

"Yeah, well—" Irelia tensed, throwing her arm out to stop her companion from moving. Something was amiss. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood up and she wrapped an arm around her leader's slim waist, pulling the woman against her. "Don't move."

The mage's cheeks heated at their proximity, but she didn't question the order. She knew Irelia would protect her—no matter what.

"Well… _This _is interesting."

The warrior whirled, reflexively positioning herself between Karma and the speaker: a tall figure swathed in dark cloth that obscured his features from view. It was clear from the glowing orb in his hands that he was a sorcerer of some sort.

"Who are you?"

"That isn't important." The hood shifted to reveal a glowing pair of blue eyes. "I'm more interested in the two of you—would you happen to be Irelia, the Will of the Blades, and Karma, the Enlightened One?"

Their titles weren't exactly common knowledge. How could this stranger—

"My contacts provide me with a great deal of information about you and all other prospective Champions," the man stated, as though reading her mind. "Though… You look different than what they described." This comment was aimed towards Irelia. "You're supposed to be a top lane bruiser and yet you_ look_ like an assassin."

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

"Oh, excuse me, I was thinking aloud." The orb in his hands shone as he tucked it into his sleeve, pulling out two scrolls sealed with wax instead. He held them out, palm facing upwards. "Please, accept these invitations to the League of Legends. They will explain everything in addition to giving you a way to contact me. I do hope you will consider joining our ranks."

There was a flash of blindingly bright light and the mage was gone.

"What just happened?" Irelia asked when the light faded. Karma shrugged and held up her hand: her fingers were curled around the roll of parchment that the mysterious man had been holding out. It was then that the warrior realized that she was also holding one. "Should we… Open them?"

"We should return to the council room, first." Her expression became thoughtful. "Wait… I've a better idea. Come."

Moments later, Irelia found herself in front of a huge, squat building made of marble with thick pillars framing either side of the entrance. This temple served as both a schoolhouse where Karma taught villagers self-defense and as the Enlightened One's home. It was likely one of the most secure buildings for miles for the mage had fortified its already sturdy frame with magic.

The Will of the Blades didn't hesitate to cross to the back room and throw herself down on Karma's bed with a weary sigh.

"Please, make yourself at home," the dark-skinned woman dead-panned.

"Open yours."

"Me? Why?"

"Magic is your forte—not mine."

Karma grumbled something, but she did as she was told and undid the wax seal. The moment she unfurled the parchment, a projection of the strange man from before stood over it, glowing with the same pale blue his orb had.

"Greetings, future Champion, and allow me to welcome you to the greatest journey you will ever embark on. I am what is known as a Summoner and I am here to help you achieve your heart's desires. Shall I continue?"

When the projection paused as though waiting for a response, Irelia scoffed.

She was stunned when the Enlightened One said, "You have my attention."

-w-

"Out of sight, out of mind" was another saying that Riven had come to appreciate… but it wasn't proving to be true at this very moment.

Perhaps it was the cool, confident air of her mysterious visitor, perhaps it was the fact that her guard duty was already going badly if potential threats were slipping through the cracks like that, but she couldn't get the long-haired woman out of her head despite the fact that a week had passed.

It was infuriating, really.

Still… The fighter just had to know: who _was_ that woman?

"Riven?"

She blinked. "Mm?"

The knight from before—Garen Crownguard—arched an eyebrow. "You're even more reserved than usual. Is something troubling you?"

She had to pull herself together. No sense in getting distracted from her duty. "It's nothing. Thank you for your concern."

He smiled slightly, though he, like Jarvan, seemed weary. "I hate to request more of you, but would you mind escorting my sister tonight? The Prince is throwing a festival and she loves that sort of thing."

Throwing a festival while the crown jewels were in danger? Brilliant. But it wasn't her place to comment, so she merely nodded. "I would be happy to."

Luxanna "Lux" Crownguard was a chirpy young blonde who had an inquisitive mind and a sun-shiney, 'can't-keep-me-down!' personality that was actually quite endearing. The Lady of Luminosity, as she was referred to, had taken a shine to the mercenary and the two had become unlikely allies.

Allies—not 'friends'. As a lone wolf who roamed the far reaches of Runeterra, she found that she was far better off without them.

* * *

The night sky was ablaze with magical multicoloured explosions that shimmered in the shape of dragons and other such fantastic beasts, dispelling the fall chill.

Riven drew her hood closer to her face, her dark eyes trained on her target: a young blonde girl dressed in a dark blue catsuit covered in pieces of armor and pastel bits of lace that formed a skirt and cape who was clapping her hands and laughing gaily at the antics of a court jester. There was a long wand at her waist, the head of which sparkled with its own luminescence.

Astonishingly blue eyes flicked over to the mercenary and the girl waved, beaming when she received a nod in response. She flounced over, grabbing Riven's hand without hesitation, and dragging the startled woman towards a row of merchant carts. "Stop being such a rain cloud, Riven!"

"My duty here is to—"

"Escort me, right?" Lux stopped mid-stride, whirling to face the warrior. She raised a hand and wagged her index finger. "That means you're my date for the night."

"… 'Date'?"

"Yup. So put a smile on your face and let's have a blast!" She grinned. "After all, you only turn 17 once."

So _that _was the reason behind this shameless display of debauchery and frivolity.

"Happy birthday," the Exile mumbled.

"You're too sweet. Now, come on!"

With that, Riven found herself being dragged all over the castle grounds by the thrilled Lady of Luminosity and forced to take part in silly games created to test physical prowess or accuracy. The pair watched acrobatic feats, ate their weight in sweets (okay, Riven watched _Lux _eat all of that with a look of appalled fascination), and the warrior even entered a swordsman competition.

She won, naturally.

Now the evening was winding down and Lux hid a yawn behind a raised hand. "I need to get ready."

"For?"

"The ball, silly. You can't have a festival without a ball." She eyed the older woman appraisingly. "Do you have a dress to wear?"

"Thank you, but I will have to pass. I'm not much of a dancer."

"Poo. You're no fun." The mage pouted slightly, but then she looked towards the courtyard where servants were setting up decorations and putting out huge platters of food. "Oh gosh, I'm going to be late! I'll be right back!" she called as she dashed towards the castle.

* * *

Riven was sitting amongst the boughs of the sturdy tree where she had first seen that mysterious woman, watching the dance floor with sharp eyes. Dozens of pairs of partners were twirling across the make-shift dance floor and yet it was the flutter of blood-red cloth that caught the warrior's attention.

"You…"

The wearer of that deep, rich colour was none other than the aforementioned woman; long auburn hair was pinned up in a bun by a pair of chopsticks and she was smiling pleasantly at her dance partner… Lux.

"That isn't good."

The Exile leaped down, landing in a crouch, and quickly crossed the dance floor, wending her way through the crowd of bodies. When the woman caught sight of her, piercing blue eyes widened and she began to say something, likely excusing herself, but Riven caught her arm, a thin smile on her lips even as her gaze hardened. "May I?"

"I thought you didn't dance?" Still, the blonde curtsied to her dance partner with a polite, "It was lovely meeting you." and skipped away in search of another.

"Erm… Hello."

"We meet again."

The woman's expression became carefully blank. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

Riven jerked the carmine-haired outsider towards her, disguising the violent action as a twirl. She rested a hand on the woman's slim waist and the hand opposite it, leaning in to murmur, "Tell me who you are. Make a scene and I won't hesitate to dispatch you."

"I don't want any trouble." The partners whirled gracefully despite the mercenary's current garb. "My name is Irelia. Satisfied?"

"Where are you from, _Irelia_?" Riven twirled her dance partner around again, pulling her back in so that her body was flush against the fighter's taller, leaner form. "What is your business here?"

Was she blushing or was that the lights crackling overhead? "I'm from Ionia." She squirmed away from the Exile, placing some distance between them before she could be recaptured. "I, um… Should be going."

Before Riven could stop her, she curtsied and hurried away, disappearing seamlessly into the sea of bodies with one last, lingering glance.

"'Not much of a dancer'?" came Lux's incredulous voice.

It was then that the fighter realized her antics had become the center of attention; a round of applause travelled through the gathered throng, some nobles going so far as to asking to be her next dance partner.

"Back off, gentlemen, she's mine," the Lady of Luminosity growled, taking the older woman's hand. To Riven she said, "You owe me one dance."

It looked like she wasn't going to get out of this one. As she waltzed with the young blonde, the fighter's dark eyes wandered warily over the dance floor.

'_Irelia of Ionia…'_

She was clearly up to no good.

**-End Chapter-**


	3. A Change of Plans, an Act of Kindness

To Anon: I'll definitely consider it. I have Nidalee paired up with plenty of people, actually. Heh.

Let's rock.

**-A Change of Plans, an Act of Kindness-**

_/ "So what was the change of plans you mentioned?"_

_Karma frowned thoughtfully. "It would appear we cannot approach this, erm, liberation as I had first intended."_

"_It's a theft, Karma. Call it what it is."_

_The Enlightened One sighed. "That mouth of yours."_

"_I speak the truth."_

"_In any case, you'll find it impossible to sneak into Demacia with that mercenary around. I've had my sources follow her recent line of work and her prowess is impressive to say the least. And you cannot fight her head-on… That would cause too much chaos."_

"_Okay… So now what?"_

"_Now, you'll need to be your most charming. I need you to befriend Luxanna. Rumor has it that she and the Prince are involved. It's likely that she'll know vital information."_

"_We're acting on rumor alone?" _

"_It's the best we have. Go to Demacia as soon as you can. The moment you discover the location of the jewels, we must act swiftly. And Irelia?" _

_The woman paused mid-step. "Mm?"_

"_Don't let your curiosity get the better of you. It's best if you simply avoid Riven."/_

Easier said than done.

It was literally impossible to avoid Riven's watchful eye during Irelia's trips to Demacia and it was starting to make the red-head feel more than a little jumpy. Even under stiff leather pants and a corset-like top—commoner's clothes—she felt as though the warrior could see through to who—and what—she truly was.

But there was no reason to panic—she was just a new friend of Lux's who happened to be visiting. Or, at least, that was the guise under which she had scoped out the castle in the past month, carefully memorizing each and every little detail as best she could.

Too bad the mercenary was everywhere at once.

"What are you doing in here?"

The Will of the Blades tensed, though she didn't allow her body to visibly reflect the reaction. She had meandered into the throne room more on a whim than anything. "Is it a crime to look around the castle?"

Riven crossed her arms over her chest, her expression decidedly unimpressed. "I don't trust you."

"There's that charming personality you wooed me with during our first meeting." No sense in pretending now.

A scoff. "You've fooled the nobles. Congratulations. I am unlike those vapid gossips, however."

That she was… And that was why Irelia was so intrigued. Everyone in the Demacian castle was completely in love with themselves, completely predictable. Riven was the only one who made her pulse race and the cogs in her mind turn. She brushed the thought off—_Ridiculous.—_and moved to step past the mercenary, only to find herself at the tip of the woman's blade with a dangerous _'shik'. _

"What are you—"

"What are your true intentions, Irelia?"

_So persistent…!_ It was really starting to piss her off.

Her eyebrows drew together. "I would advise you not to do that."

The tension in the air was nearly palpable and the Will of the Blades felt the power within that controlled her weapon stir anxiously.

"Hey, is everything okay in here?"

Riven lowered her blade with a soft, frustrated sound and the red-head had to hide a smirk. The mage was proving to be more of an asset than she had anticipated. "It's nothing, Lux."

"You sure?" Blue eyes flicked warily from one woman to the other.

"She's sure," Irelia chirped, the ugliness gone from her expression. "C'mon, Luxy, let's grab lunch."

Before the mercenary could protest, she dragged the Lady of Luminosity from the room.

* * *

"Riven doesn't seem to like you much."

Irelia blinked, caught off-guard by the comment. She took a moment to raise a spoonful of soup to her lips and chew the potatoes hidden in the thick broth before responding, "She doesn't seem to like much at all, if you ask me."

'_Pity.' _

The blonde's expression became downcast for the first time since Irelia had met her. "I don't know… Maybe she's stressed because J-IV-er-the Prince is expecting so much of her?"

Ah. That slip up was interesting. "'J-IV'? That's a cute nickname."

And, just like that, the young mage's face went red all the way up to the tips of her ears. "I, uh…"

"Your secret is safe with me," the red-head stated solemnly, raising her right hand for added effect. Inwardly, she smirked. Luxanna would be an asset indeed. "Perhaps we should help her relax, then? I would hate for a friend of yours to be unhappy."

Riven was the only person in the castle who doubted her intentions. If she won over the mercenary, her job would become much easier. It was all a matter of infiltration—both of the Demacian people and of the treasure vault they sought to protect.

"Would you lovely creatures care to join us?" a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. Lux went red again, but Irelia didn't even deign to glance in the man's direction.

"Not interested. Move on."

"Listen, you rude little tart—"

"Move. On." This time, she looked up, bright blue eyes blazing with the promise of violence. He was tall and muscular, yet he flinched away from her. "Or, if you value your life so little, I can end it for you." As he scurried off, the red-head gave her startled companion a pleasant smile. "Eat up. We can go coat shopping after this—winter's coming."

"Okay!"

* * *

Since when did 'stick-in-the-mud's interest Irelia? She got enough of Karma's bossy, too-serious attitude back in Ionia—why come to Demacia to experience the same old, same old?

It didn't make any sense.

… Perhaps it was the oddly endearing—cute?—way the mercenary constantly played the lone-wolf.

The would-be thief sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes.

… Perhaps it was that striking silver hair and those dark, mysterious eyes—like pools of rich chocolate.

Irelia tugged a hand through her hair and leaned against the stone railing that circled the viewing deck above the castle roof, her eyes trained on the warrior several stories down.

… Perhaps it was the strong, hard character wrapped around a softer core that she only ever showed when she was interacting with children and animals; she was showing it now, gently calming a troublesome colt while the stable-hands looked on in awe.

Whatever it was, this fascination had to stop. It was going nowhere and, quite frankly, she couldn't afford to… pursue other interests while Ionia needed its hero so desperately.

Still… It wouldn't hurt to get closer to the Exile, right? It would only make her job that much easier.

-w-

"Are you coming?"

Riven's expression was unreadable, the mind behind it searching for a reason as to why she was being invited along on such a silly endeavor. The fighter hated wasting time and this "shopping trip" sounded like the epitome of time wasted.

"C'mon, Riven, _pleeeeease_?"

Then again, her secondary objective here was to protect the young Crownguard. Especially considering her newfound best friend happened to be a suspicious character—one that only Riven suspected, apparently.

"Hello, Irelia. How are you today?"

The woman smiled at the passing noble, inclining her head slightly. "I'm fine, thank you. Lux and I are trying to convince Riven to go shopping with us."

"Oh, you girls have been inseparable! It's so cute."

'_More like disturbing_,' Riven thought sourly. Was she truly the only one who saw anything wrong here!?

"… Fine. I'll go."

"Wa-hoo!" Lux cheered.

Irelia merely smirked, bright aquamarine orbs meeting dark brown ones in a challenging way that made the warrior bristle.

There was no way she was going to allow this woman to get under her skin.

* * *

How was Irelia getting under her skin like this? It felt as though the red-head knew the best ways to push her buttons and was doing so at every turn.

Presently, the aforementioned young woman was nudging the fighter with the toe of her boot, punctuating each nudge with the vocalization of the taller woman's name.

"Riven." Nudge.

"…"

"Riven." Nudge.

She was going to kill Irelia.

It would be the perfect time to do so: Lux had run off to the latrines and there was no one out in the street as an icy wind had swept through the city, sending the civilians indoors to thaw.

The only problem would be getting rid of the body and breaking the news to Lux that her friend would no longer be coming to visit…

_Another _nudge—this one sharper—shook the mercenary from her homicidal considerations.

"What is it?" she deadpanned.

After being dragged across what felt like all of Demacia by the giggling blonde mage, the silver-haired warrior was beginning to grow weary. Honestly, shopping with the Lady of Luminosity was likely a more intense physical exertion than her training had ever been.

"Here."

The fighter blinked, taken aback by the sudden offering of—what was that, anyway? She reached out and touched the soft emerald cloth, her fingertips brushing against Irelia's palm as she did so.

For a moment, neither moved, caught up in… whatever this was.

Finally, Riven's brain caught back up to her and she muttered her thanks, unraveling the neatly folded cloth.

A scarf.

It was then that the fighter realized that, one: it was quite cold out now that the sun was sinking past the horizon, and two: this was the first time in a while that anyone had given her a gift. As a mercenary, she didn't usually get tied down to any one place for very long; the pay she received for a job well done was the only thing anyone was ever willing—and sometimes unwilling—to hand-out.

"You look cold," Irelia observed, snatching the cloth from the taller woman's fingers.

Just what was she up to?

Riven flinched when the red-head reached towards her, but the Ionian merely pushed the mercenary's hood back and draped the scarf around her neck, looping it a few times and letting the free ends fall onto the corset-like breastplate.

"There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

The Exile said nothing, her skin curiously warm where Irelia's fingers had brushed against it.

What was this, a peace offering? She wasn't about to fall for it.

"One more stop!" Lux announced, returning to the stone bench her impromptu bodyguard sat against rather than upon. There were parcels piled around the silver-haired woman's feet and she stooped to retrieve them. "C'mon, ladies, I'll even treat you to hot chocolate!"

"Anything to thaw my poor hands and feet." Irelia held her hand out to Riven and, after a moment's hesitation, she accepted the assistance. Contrary to her previous statement, the appendage was warm to the touch and the taller of the two found herself clutching to the other woman. Her pulse spiked ever so slightly and she found herself frowning in thought as her mind sped up to match its pace.

Reality caught up to reveal that Irelia was staring at her, a thin red eyebrow arched upwards. "Is something on your mind, Riven?"

"No…" What in the world was wrong with her? She hastily released her grip and started off in the direction Lux had indicated earlier, her shoulders tense.

Irelia shot the blonde a questioning look and the Lady of Luminosity shrugged helplessly.

Who knew what was going on in the reserved warrior's head?

* * *

The evening had been going so smoothly that it came as no surprise that _something _would go wrong eventually and that 'something' came in the form of the drunken rabble sitting around the bar in the tavern the shoppers had ducked into to avoid the snow flurry that whirled without warning through the streets.

It seemed winter was in a big hurry to announce its presence.

Naturally, it had been the curvaceous, fiery-haired beauty that the drunken trio had first targeted and she had very calmly asked them to shove off.

Upon receiving such an order, they had hooted and hollered…

"This one's got a mouth on 'er!"

"I like my wenches wit' a bit of fight."

"Careful, boys, this filly needs to be broken."

… and the pack leader, a brawny man with a fists like hams, was the first patron ever to crash through the double doors and out into a growing pile of snow.

The red-head hadn't even looked up from her hot chocolate, her hands clasped around the mug to warm her digits.

"Two times in one day? I hate idiots like that," she muttered.

When his drunken friends roared, swinging at the Ionian, Riven's hand went to the hilt of the broadsword strapped across her back, but there was no need: the lithe young woman flipped away, raising her drink to her lips as she did so, and landed behind her attackers. She drained the last, sweet dregs of chocolate and placed the mug down with a solid '_thunk' _before dashing forward and kicking one man away, sweeping the legs out from underneath the other with a powerful roundhouse. A number of glinting blades appeared around her and she flung them with a graceful pirouette; both men cried out as the sharp steel punctured the skin of their palms, pinning them to the ground and far wall.

The bar patrons let up a cheer and Irelia chuckled, bowing neatly.

"Shall I take you home, Lux?" she asked, donning her coat. "I'd like to get back to Ionia before we get snowed in."

What was that spike of disappointment she felt at the Will of the Blades's words?

"'kay," Lux agreed, gathering up her purchases and filing obediently behind the evidently acrobatic warrior.

She really shouldn't have been, but Riven was impressed.

**-End Chapter-**


	4. An Icy Storm, an Unspoken Farewell

Haven't really been in the mood to write... Almost done with this fic, in any case. Maybe two, three chapters left. I can do this.

**-An Icy Storm, an Unspoken Farewell-**

Sadly, Irelia didn't make it more than a few steps outside of Demacian territory before the wind picked up, howling like some caged beast and tossing huge drifts of snow as though they were wilted leaves caught in a current.

In fact, the warrior would have likely been completely buried had Riven not appeared out of nowhere and literally swept her off her feet, dashing forward—creating a cone-shaped shield of sickly green energy as she did—so that the world around them became a blur of white and gray.

When bright baby blue orbs fluttered open, they were standing in the castle foyer, the mercenary's shoulders rising and falling a bit more rapidly than normal, though she gave no other indication that she was winded. "Lux warned you not to leave."

She had been too stubborn to listen, of course. Karma was likely beside herself with worry.

Speak of the devil—

"_Irelia? Where are you?"_

The carmine-haired warrior shook her head, realizing in that moment that the action brought her face closer to Riven's due to the fact that strong arms were still holding her up princess style.

"Could you… put me down?" A hand was dangerously close to the curve of her buttocks and that fact was becoming more painfully obvious the longer she remained so close to the silver-haired fighter.

The Exile started—a response that Irelia likely wouldn't have even noticed had she not been _in the other woman's arms_—and her expression became abruptly neutral. As though she was embarrassed by their proximity—'_Cute_.'

It felt as though she had been thinking that word a lot recently.

"Omigosh, thank goodness! I thought something bad might happen to you, so I sent Riven."

That explained the intent gaze she had sensed trained on her earlier.

Riven deposited—read: basically dropped—her on the floor upon Lux's appearance and turned her back on the pair, announcing, "I shall be in my quarters if you require my services, Lux."

And the Will of the Blades watched as the taller woman walked off, a perplexed expression twisting her features. _'Just what was that?'_

"_What was _what_?"_

"_Wait, you heard me?"_

"_You thought it quite loudly. Is something wrong?" _

Light blue orbs flicked back to the spot where Riven had last been and the would-be thief smiled slightly. _"Actually, I think everything is perfect."_

This was the first time Riven had left her alone—allowed her free roam of the castle without having to worry about scrutiny—since she had started visiting.

She couldn't waste this chance.

"Where're you going?" Lux questioned, tilting her head curiously.

"I need your help, Luxanna."

The blonde grimaced at the use of her first name. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for something."

* * *

The Will of the Blades slipped past the chatty guards outside of the vault, biting back the thrilled laughter that threatened to leave her.

This was child's play!

Her dear blonde mage was quite chatty and it was only a matter of using the correct sequence of inquiries to finally crack the location of her target: the royal family safe.

She could practically hear the clink of gold coins already.

"_Karma."_

There was a pause before the woman finally answered, _"Mm?"_ her voice thick with sleep.

"_I've located our target."_

"_Really?" _All of a sudden, she sounded much more awake. _"This is wonderful, Irelia! I'll gather a caravan and we can be there tomorrow evening at the latest. Just continue to play Luxanna's friend and you should be safe."_

Sad thing was, the plucky mage had begun to grow on her. And so had—

'_Stop that. No sense in getting attached.'_

* * *

For the rest of the day, Irelia was in an excellent mood. As the sun began to sink past the horizon and the frogs that lived in the moat around the castle began to croak a song to welcome the pale crescent of the moon, her high spirits began to dim.

Her mission was drawing to a close. This time tomorrow, Karma would arrive with a platoon of freshly trained Ionian warriors disguised as simple travelling entertainers bound for distant lands. They would get in, get the jewels, and hopefully get out without a hitch.

The blue bloods wouldn't even notice their treasures were missing until it was too late.

Her mission was drawing to a close… and that meant that she wouldn't be returning to Demacia any time soon. Hell, it meant she would likely have to stay away from Ionia for a while as well, seeing as so many people in the castle knew her face.

But that—having to avoid her own home like a common criminal—didn't bother her half as much as the thought of never seeing Riven again did.

And that sentiment bothered her most of all.

This woman who had been the bane of her existence for the past two months had somehow managed to work her way under the red-head's skin. She had holed up in that little niche that Karma had carved out—a place where all of her care and respect just so happened to exist as well.

How?

It didn't make any sense.

-w-

Riven scowled, her eyes closed as she sat cross-legged on the thick pelt that cushioned the cold stone floor.

This was getting out of hand.

For some reason, she kept getting close to the red-haired Ionian—whether it was unconscious or not, the steadily developing habit was a horrible one.

She needed to nip this… whatever it was, in the bud.

The Exile inhaled deeply and forced her expression to become neutral, reigning in her chaotic thoughts and focusing them on her breathing. She had been meditating to clear her mind for the past few hours to no avail, but one more try couldn't hurt.

Inhale… Exhale.

The fire crackled quietly, its steady warmth combatting the pervasive chill.

Inhale… Exhale.

Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor, but the Exile paid them no heed. She wasn't expecting company, nor did she desire any. Besides, it was late and whomever it was was likely headed to bed.

Inhale—

'_Knock, knock.'_

Curses.

The warrior shook her head despairingly, but rose from her seated position and crossed the room, pulling open the door without bothering to confirm the identity of the person on the other side.

That was her first mistake that night.

The moment the door was opened, Irelia came bustling in, wrapped in a warm winter coat and muff that she had purchased during their earlier expedition into the shopping district. She had apparently gone outside again—which didn't make much sense because Riven's quarters were located at the centermost region of the castle. For what reason would she have braved the elements?

"You'll never believe the trouble I went through to get _this_," the woman was saying, smiling as though they were sharing some private joke. "I never drink the stuff myself, but I hear it's good for the chill."

"This" turned out to be a bottle of whisky—and quite an expensive one, if the label was anything to go by.

"Where did you—"

"Lux showed me the private storeroom," she laughed, kicking off her boots and shedding her coat. No wonder she had been bundled up like that: all she wore underneath was a gown better suited for the warmer months. Riven herself had stripped out of all her armor and was wearing the hooded, short-sleeved, skin-tight green suit beneath it.

"… You're in high spirits."

"I suppose I am." Irelia crossed the room and plopped down, crossing her legs at the ankles and looking expectantly towards her impromptu-hostess. "Drink with me."

"I don't drink." And yet, she found herself moving towards Irelia, pulled in by that intense magnetism that the red-head seemed to exude.

And that was her second mistake—perhaps she _had _been fooled like the Demacian nobles…

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?"

Riven blinked, now aware that baby blue orbs were trained intently on her. For some reason, the gaze made her feel… anxious. "No."

"Somehow, I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will." The warrior lowered herself to the plushy hide and stretched her legs out. They sat in a companionable silence for a time, just staring into the fire.

Then, there was movement to her right: Irelia was cracking open the bottle. She took a swig before handing it to Riven, who hesitated.

'_Her lips were just…'_

Foolish brain. What did that matter?

The Exile reached out and took the proffered vessel, ignoring the thrill that went through her when their fingers brushed. "Why now?"

"Mm?" She seemed distracted.

"You said that you do not drink. Why now?"

Irelia's expression became more serious. "It just seems like a good time, I suppose."

What did she mean by _that?_

Before Riven could ask, the Will of the Blades swiped the bottle from her hand and took another swig, this one deeper. "Lighten up, Rain Cloud."

"'Rain… Cloud'?"

"Heh. It's what Lux calls you. She says you're a cloud saturated with the elements of a storm and you'll feel much better if you just let them all out."

Lux said that?

The mercenary averted her gaze. "And what do _you _think?"

The bottle was pressed back into her hands and Irelia waited until she took a sip, grimacing at the taste, before responding, "I think… That you're running from something."

"From what?" she asked incredulously.

"Yourself?" Her grin was lopsided, charming. "You're the type who thinks too much and feels too little, Riven."

"Perhaps," she grunted.

"There you go again. Honestly, what could be on your mind now?"

"You." The painfully honest answer was out before she could stop it and it lingered in the air between them, adding a new gravity to the situation that hadn't been there previously.

If the gods had mercy, they would strike her down right then and there.

Irelia tilted her head, but if she was surprised by the admission, she didn't show it. "Me?"

"Mm…"

"Why?"

If Riven thought too much, then Irelia asked too many questions.

The warrior shrugged, accepting the bottle without comment and taking another sip. The second time around was much easier and she could almost ignore the way it burned her throat as her entire body warmed a bit. She was feeling a bit more relaxed as well.

"Well?"

Her one-track mind would get her into trouble one day—it likely had at some point.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Irelia chuckled—the sound rich, warm—and Riven blinked. "Why are you laughing?"

"Cute."

"_What_?"

The red-head's gaze became oddly gentle and the Exile suddenly felt warm for more reasons than the alcohol. "You heard me."

Irelia thought… She had never been called 'cute' before and she'd be lying if she said that it didn't flatter her coming from the Will of the Blades.

"I… Thank you." She would have averted her gaze, but she found herself once again caught up in that inexplicable magnetism. Her heart skipped a beat.

"For what? I've only told you the truth." That silver tongue would be the warrior's undoing. "May I ask you something?"

A little red flag went off in her head, but she murmured, "Of course."

"Would you mind if I kissed you?"

Whoa, where had that question come from? Why would Irelia want to kiss _her_? She wasn't anything special—not like the fiery-haired Ionian.

She was so close now that Riven could make out every individual eyelash surrounding those beautiful baby blue orbs. "Irelia…"

"Shh." A gentle hand cupped her cheek and there was the slight pressure as soft, plump lips pressed against hers. The contact lasted for a small eternity and yet it was far too brief. "Sweet dreams, Riven."

With that, she rose and gathered her things, leaving the room without another word and leaving the silver-haired woman alone with her thoughts.

'_Her lips were just—'_

Foolish brain… What did that matter?

**-End Chapter-**


	5. A Hitch in the Plan, a Parting of Ways

**-A Hitch in the Plan, a Parting of Ways-**

The guards at the castle gates were unsure of what to make of the motley crew that appeared in carriages and on horseback, some playing instruments and still others juggling an assortment of objects, but Riven was instantly wary.

And that feeling only intensified further when Irelia came out of the castle, bundled up against the chill, to clasp arms with the dark-skinned caravan leader, her bright blue eyes practically glowing with happiness—as though she was pleased to see the other woman.

For some reason, that bothered the mercenary immensely.

With a snort of derision, Riven turned her back on the whole situation and headed into the castle.

**Inside the Castle…**

Lux was beside herself with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feel as she took in the sight of the procession with wide blue eyes. She looked to Riven, grinning, and the warrior covered her face with her hand. "Absolutely not."

"B-but…"

"Your brother placed you in my care, Luxanna. Please do not be difficult."

"_Pleeeeeeease_, Riven?"

"Yes, Riven, let Lux have some fun."

The silver-haired fighter frowned at Irelia, who was passing through the doorway she had come in through not too long ago. "You stay out of this."

"Come on, _Rain Cloud_."

Lux instantly looked guilty. "It's okay, Irelia. I don't have to—"

"Do as you wish."

"Huh?!"

Riven shook her head, crossing her arms over her breastplate. "Irelia will protect you."

"Wait, why me?"

"Because you suggested this." She smiled pleasantly, her gaze harder than steel. "I'll be depending on you."

The look on the Will of the Blades's face said that she wasn't happy with the trust being placed in her at all.

* * *

Naturally, Riven didn't really leave Lux at the hands of the Ionian: she sat on a flying buttress that arched over the entrance to the crowded courtyard, her legs hanging over the edge. It was getting even colder out—why in the world would they want to be milling about in the snow like this? From her vantage point, she kept sharp eyes trained on the young Crownguard, but also on the visiting travelers.

They all seemed far too organized to be mere performers.

The woman that Irelia had greeted earlier seemed to be their leader as she was most centrally located in the formation her allies had assembled in: each of the six young men and women were standing at every critical entrance and exit into the castle, smiles on their faces as they entertained the awed nobles with simple tricks and expertly woven tales.

How were the guards not noticing?

There was alcohol—that was how. Each armored man had a stupid grin on his face while he joined the crowd in applauding the performers—

Wait, where had the dark-skinned Ionian disappeared to?

Dark eyes quickly scanned the crowd to locate Lux and, sure enough, the chirpy blonde girl was by herself.

Swearing quietly under her breathe, Riven leaped down, landing in a crouch amidst the nobles, her scarf fluttering in the chilling breeze, and drawing gasps and cries of surprise. She didn't waste any time pushing her way through them until she had joined Lux, who grinned when she saw the mercenary. "Riven, you have to try this—"

"Where's Irelia?"

Blue eyes widened at that harsh tone. "She said she needed to use the restroom."

The girl, like the rest of the Demacian nobles, didn't seem to think anything was amiss. "Follow me. I may require your assistance."

**Hallway outside of the treasure vault entrance…**

"Halt!"

Riven released an impatient growl and Lux nearly crashed into her back as she stopped mid-step to glower at the posted guards. "I need you to open the vault. Immediately."

"For what reason?" the taller of the two men asked incredulously. "Go back outside and enjoy the festivities, ladies."

"Has anyone come by here?"

The guards traded a look.

"No one."

"Not a soul."

The mercenary's hand went instinctively to her blade and the shorter of the two men scoffed. "I would advise you to stand down, miss."

When she unsheathed the broken blade, the guards took one look at it and began to laugh uproariously.

"And what do you think you're going to do with _that_?"

"Take my advice, girl: don't rummage around in the dump when you need a weapon."

The Exile's eyes flashed green as the blade mended itself and she slid into a combat stance, hefting its weight as easily as one would a much lighter object. "I do not believe that you are bad people—merely fools. You get one chance: flee with your lives or be cut down."

They were gone before she could even finish the second option.

"Riven… What if you're wrong about Irelia?"

"Do you think that I am lying?"

"N-no, of course not! It's just… She's a really nice girl. And she likes us a lot."

'_Us…?'_ That meant Riven as well. "Did she tell you that?"

A nod. "She talks about you all the time.

"…" Riven shook her head, turning back to the sealed doors and cracking the huge padlock open with a swipe of her blade. The metal doors creaked ominously as they swung inwards and they could hear hushed voices echoing faintly along the narrow passageway leading into the vault.

One of which was, without a doubt, Irelia's.

The pair shared a look before Lux nodded and they entered the darkness.

-w-

It had been child's play to bribe the guards—loyalty really did lie with the highest bidder.

Demacians may have been prim and proper—noble, even—on the outside, but what lay within was just as greedy and self-preserving as the average cur.

Within the vault lay a veritable trove of all that shone and clinked—from gems of dazzling hues to ornate weaponry and armor. There was a momentary stunned silence as the Ionians took it all in then, the Enlightened One sighed.

"This is too good to be true, surely."

"Don't question it." The red-head padded across the coin-covered floor of the vault and released an impressed whistle. "How long do you think _this _pretty little nest egg took to collect?"

"Far too long to allow you to steal it."

That voice…

Both women whirled around to see Lux and Riven standing in the wide, arching doorway that connected the labyrinth that ran beneath the cast to the vault itself.

"Riven—"

The hand resting on the hilt of her blade went white-knuckles. "I trusted you."

Despite the caustic tone, Irelia actually felt, well, _guilty_. To the point that her heart sunk. She shoved the feelings into a corner of her mind for later examination and summoned the blade her father made her, the weapon glinting dangerously between them.

"You shouldn't have."

The look she received hurt more than the words possibly could—like getting stabbed in the back with a dull, rusted knife and having it twisted a dozen times over.

Inwardly, she wilted, but outwardly, she straightened her spine and became as cool as the flurries drifting about outside.

Ionia would _not_ fall.

"If you want to stop me, you'll have to use that blade of yours."

'_Shik.'_

The glowing, fully-formed greatsword pointed at Irelia's throat once again. This time, however, there was an actual intent to bring harm behind the motion. "Come. I will stop you with my last breath."

Why did it have to come to this?

Karma was muttering some Mantra under her breath and, a moment later, her palms glowed a purple-green mix. Before she could launch the _Soulflare, _however, Irelia lifted a hand to stop her.

"Leave her be. This fight is mine."

* * *

'_She's so strong…!' _

Irelia whirled, her blades crossing above her to parry the crushing blow that would have otherwise split her in half. She could feel the warrior's strength through her connection with the living blade and it was terrifying to say the least.

But not nearly as intimidating as the blazing green glare she received while they danced around each other, each combatant attempting to gain the upper hand.

There was some small movement in her peripheral and a little red flag went off in the Ionian's head; she flipped backwards just as a shimmering _Light Binding _hurled past her to disperse harmlessly some distance across the room. In the same moment, the Exile dashed forward, _Valor _shielding her from the tether of magical energy that Karma had thrown, and swiped her blade in a wide, sweeping arc, nearly clipping the red-head as she parried just in time and dropped into a crouch, a powerful roundhouse knocking the white-haired fighter back a few steps.

Akali would have been so proud.

But there was no time to think about that now, because Riven was incredibly mobile despite the fact that she was wielding what had to be an incredibly heavy hunk of steel. _Broken Wings _closed the gap between them and also forced Irelia back on the defensive; her hasty retreat was cut off by the _Lucent Singularity _that had been lobbed at the ground behind her, though the spell's slowing effect was halved by her innate abilities and even more so by a shield from Karma.

"Thanks!"

The warrior _Bladesurge_d past Riven—remembering her training and keeping her spine straight—and closed in on young Lux, a small, rueful smile curving her lips as she grabbed the girl's shoulder and delivered a powerful uppercut into her gut, causing the blonde to choke and splutter before falling bonelessly to the floor.

She really did like Lux, but those light spells were getting annoying.

There was a snarl and, suddenly, Irelia found herself being hefted upwards by the back of her shirt and held, suspended, like a naughty kitten. "Have you lost your mind?"

Before she could wriggle her way out of that iron grip, a _Ki Burst _made her head spin and her vision dim for a split second. That moment's weakness was enough for Riven to pin the woman to a stone support pillar and, as Karma stepped forward to rescue her comrade, the white-haired warrior swung her greatsword, loosing the energy built up in the blade in the form of a furious gust of wind that sent the mage flying into the far wall with a pained cry.

'_Karma!'_

The grip on Irelia's collar tightened and Riven lifted the re-broken blade to her throat, the jagged edge sharp enough to lay open a thin cut across the Ionian's collar.

"She is the least of your concerns. Speak quickly: why do you intend to steal from the Demacian castle?"

"I—"

A rivulet of warm blood ran down Irelia's front as the pressure increased. "No more lies. If I suspect that you are telling an untruth, I will silence you. Permanently."

She was… serious. Her gaze was sharper than the steel pressed against the Will of the Blade's skin.

"Begin."

"…" Baby blue orbs slid past the fighter to the dark-skinned mage: she was still breathing. A relieved sigh would have left her, but she was slammed against the cold stone surface a second time and the air was driven from her lungs. "Have patience, would you?"

"I've no patience for traitors."

Okay, she deserved that…

Irelia cleared her throat. "Ionia was destroyed a few months ago, as you know."

The Exile blinked. "Right… The attack by Noxus." Abruptly, she released her grip and the red-head fell gracelessly to the ground with a yelp. "Continue."

"We've had to rebuild everything from scratch. Livelihoods, homes—the entire city. Do you have any idea how costly that is?"

"I have some idea." There was a bitterness to her tone that made Irelia quirk an eyebrow, but Riven simply shook her head. "So you thought to rob the royal family."

"Yes…"

"All this time… It was merely an act to get closer to the vault."

Again, there was an odd not in her tone and Irelia frowned. What could she mean by—

She took in the other woman's almost disappointed expression and her downcast gaze and, suddenly, it dawned on her just what the fighter meant. She bit her lip, charmed despite the situation. "Riven…"

The mercenary scoffed and shook her head, but her sword wavered and she seemed almost vulnerable for all of half a second. "What is it?"

"I like you. That was never an act."

Dark brown orbs widened slightly, but the Exile's expression remained neutral otherwise. "Your tongue has proven to be rather clever these past few months." She raised her blade, the tremor from before gone. "I will not be fooled by your silken words any longer."

This was bad. Movement caught the Ionian's attention and she blinked. Was that—?

She caught the smile that threatened to spread across her face and raised an eyebrow suggestively instead. "Has it? Would you like to find out just how clever it can be?"

She had only meant to buy more time, but that blush… Was priceless. Absolutely adorable.

Irelia couldn't hold back the grin this time, though it dimmed a bit as two of the travelling performers came up behind the white-haired woman and kicked her legs out from under her; the larger of the two smashed her into the ground with another kick from above and the impact knocked her unconscious.

"Are you okay, Miss Irelia?"

"Fine…" The red-head lifted her hand to her neck, pressing her fingertips against the shallow laceration to stop the bleeding. "One of you see to Karma, one of you hurry and get the others. We don't have much time to take all we can get our hands on and make our escape."

As her associates hurried off to do her bidding, Irelia turned her attention to Lux and then to the incapacitated mercenary. She would recover soon and that would be a problem.

Baby blue orbs wandered around the room until something shiny and deceptively delicate-looking caught her eye.

'_That will do nicely.'_

-w-

Riven stirred, her hand instinctively going to the weapon at her hip only to find that she couldn't move at all. Oddly enough, it wasn't that fact that made her heart race, her thoughts awhirl with something akin to fear for the first in a very long while—no, it was the absence of the all-too familiar weight.

She was unarmed.

The Exile struggled against her bindings—her feet were free for whatever reason, though her hands were suspended above her head by what felt like a length of chain which had been hung from a sturdy iron hook that originally held a torch—twisting this way and that until she had rubbed the skin from her wrists to no avail.

A chuckle echoed around the vault and she bristled, scowling once she saw the source of the sound: Irelia.

The red-head strode confidently across the vault, kicking baubles and trinkets out of her way with the toe of her boot. When she was finally standing before the bound Champion, she smiled slightly, an odd light in baby blue orbs. "No hard feelings?" she said at last.

In way of response, the mercenary spat on the ground near her feet.

Irelia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I did what I had to—that's all."

"Stealing is never a forgivable offense."

"This is coming from an ex-Noxian." Riven blinked, taken aback by the venom in the Ionian's words.

Then again… "You knew?"

She gestured vaguely. "Lux told me."

From the other end of the vault, they both heard a quiet, "Sorry…"

That girl's mouth would get her into serious trouble one day.

"I—"

"I have only one question for you," Irelia interrupted. It shouldn't have, but the outright iciness of her tone made Riven feel guilty. As if _she _was the criminal here. "Were you… A part of the assault on Ionia?"

"…"

_/ "Riven of the Crimson Elite reporting, General Du Couteau."_

_The burly, elderly gentleman gestured impatiently. "At ease, soldier. Are you ready to launch your assault?"_

"… _Sir, I don't mean to be insubordinate, but for what reason are we attacking the Ionian people? Up until now, they have been peaceful farmers and monks."_

"_Your job isn't to think, but to act," was the sharp retort. "Dismissed."_

_She saluted, though there wasn't quite as much resolve behind the action. There was no way she could go through with this. /_

Riven was brought back to reality by the sting of a slap across the face, heat rushing to the struck cheek as she spat out blood.

Irelia didn't say another word—didn't allow her to defend herself. She just turned and marched smartly out of the vault, the Exile's protests falling upon deaf ears.

Why did it have to come to this?

* * *

"Riven."

The white-haired warrior didn't look up at the Demacian prince, choosing instead to stare down at the sword lying across her lap.

She felt… Actually, she wasn't even sure how to label this gut-wrenching feeling. The betrayal of trust earlier had nothing on this new, terrible ache that made even her ponderous mind go silent.

"Riven." He said it sharper this time and dark orbs flicked to him. "Do not feel badly about being unable to stop the Ionian thieves. All that is important now is that you and Lux were unharmed."

There was such warmth in his voice when he said the Lady of Luminosity's name… warmth that the Exile had only ever heard from—

Suddenly, her heart constricted and she hung her head, an all-too important fact hitting her just now—when it was far too late.

Irelia really had liked her.

"I intend to launch a counter-strike on Ionia by week's end," the Exemplar of Demacia continued seriously. "I would be honored if you would continue to fight for Demacia." When she didn't respond, he added, "You will be acommadated, of course."

"… No."

He frowned, her voice too low for him to quite make out. "Excuse me?"

"No more conflict." The ex-Noxian rose to her feet, her muscles protesting with her every movement. She had been left hanging there for quite some time. "I will settle this myself."

Jarvan IV blinked. "You cannot be serious."

"I am."

She sheathed her blade and turned to return to the surface, intent on suiting up for her journey, only to be halted by a gloved hand. "What is this _really_ about, Riven?"

She bristled at his knowing tone. "I am fulfilling my duty as agreed. The royal jewels will be returned to the vault."

The brunette shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. "It's about that girl. What was her name? Ironia?"

"Irelia," she corrected automatically, swearing inwardly at the slip of the tongue.

"Irelia," he agreed. "You two were close."

Were they? Now that he mentioned it, she realized—once again too late—that the Will of the Blades had made off with so much more than just the kingdom's riches. Irelia had stolen what Riven had thought to be, at this point, utterly useless.

But the dull throbbing beneath her breast suggested otherwise.

"Go to her," Jarvan commanded. "Matters of finance are one thing and matters of the heart an entirely different one. You have protected my Lux and I am bound by honor to return the favor."

How could she have been so blind? Riven nodded mutely, a hopeful warmth blossoming in her chest.

She didn't need to be told twice.

**-End Chapter-**


	6. A Choice to Make, a Conflict of Wills

**-A Choice to Make, a Conflict of Wills-**

"Irela, what is it?"

"Mm?" the red-head responded absently.

They were seated cross-legged at the low table in the temple's common room, the joyful shouts of young students filtering in through the windows as they frolicked in the snow.

"You seem… restless—as though you are expecting something."

"It does appear that way, doesn't it?" Karma gave her an odd look at the rather cryptic response and she shook her head. There was no way for her to explain to the Enlightened One why she had jumped at every closing or opening of a door for the past three days since their return to Ionia—no way to explain why she felt such an odd sense of _hope_ each and every time—because she herself didn't know the reason behind the reaction.

Both young women flinched and looked up at the sudden commotion beyond the beaded curtain that separated the temple's innards from the world outside, but it was only well-wishers drunk on the success of the Ionian theft from Demacia and Irelia released a disappointed sigh for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

"I'm going to get some air," she said suddenly, rising fluidly from her seated position. Karma nodded, smiling sympathetically, and that only made the anxious stirrings beneath her breast worse.

There was no reason for the paranoid need to check over her shoulder every so often or to avoid wide, open spaces and the silence of solitude. It wasn't as though she was being hounded by that stubborn mercenary any longer—

At the mere thought of a certain white-haired individual, Irelia released a quiet whimper, her heart constricting as though some giant, icy hand was grasping it.

The Will of the Blades scowled, clenching her hands into fists until her nails left little crescent marks on her palms; there was the dull sound of metal being embedded in wood and she started, realizing with a thrill of alarm that one of her blades had zipped across the street to pierce the bark of a nearby tree.

That had never happened before…

The unsettling thought was interrupted by the presence of another and the Ionian tensed, whipping around to face the brunette sitting on the wooden fence of a field that flanked the street. "Controlling one's self is critical," Akali commented wisely. "With a skill like yours, losing control could be the difference between life and death."

"I don't know what's come over me," she admitted, voice faint. All of a sudden, her head hurt—a keening sound like metal scraping over metal ringing in her ears.

The Fist of Shadow tilted her head. "You were not like this before. I sense a disturbance in your ki despite the fact that your mission was a success and you gained all that you desired for your precious Ionia. Tell me: what else do you yearn for?"

Unbidden, a pair of chocolate-toned orbs and a small, hesitant smile flashed through her mind's eye and she swore, smashing her fist against a fencepost. The pain in her knuckles helped center her. "Like you said, I got all that I wanted. Why the pointless questioning?"

There was a silence in which both assassins stared each other down, clever minds attempting to puzzle out what the other was thinking. At last, the ninja said, "You cannot lie to yourself any more than you can let go of whomever it is on your mind, Will of the Blades. I wish you the best of luck in the coming battle."

'_Coming… battle?'_

But, before Irelia could ask what she meant, the woman was gone.

* * *

Every Ionian, young and old, was in a great mood it seemed. Every Ionian save Irelia who pointedly stayed at the fringes of such jovial groups, smiling weakly and giving some thinly-veiled excuse as to why she couldn't join the festivities and where she was headed.

She didn't know the answer to that herself.

For once, her inquisitive mind wasn't coming up with a stream of questions, choosing instead to remain curiously silent as she acted on autopilot, threading her way out of the village and into the wilds that surrounded it. A brisk wind picked up and she hunched her shoulders, wishing she had brought a thicker coat. Still, the cold from without was better from the lingering cold within…

Such dismal thoughts… What was up with her? Scoffing, the red-head quickly scaled a tall tree, settling among thick boughs and taking in the view of the open plain separating Demacia from Ionia with an almost bittersweet air.

Just what was she waiting for, exactly? What could she _possibly _expect to see way out here?

"_Irelia, come inside,_" a gentle voice interrupted her inner tirade._ "It must be freezing out there."_

"_I'm fine."_

There was a silence and the red-head could practically feel the hesitation at the other end of their connection. _"I wish you would tell me what is troubling you so…"_

The concern in her voice made the bruiser feel guilty. _"It's nothing, Kar. Don't worry." _Aloud, she muttered, "I'm just being stupid."

Someone cleared their throat from the street below and she tensed. How had she missed the presence of—

"Talking to yourself?"

That voice…

Without hesitation, the Will of the Blades leaped down from her perch and lobbed half a dozen razor sharp blades at the other woman, following up with a series of powerful open-handed strikes when she heard the sharp sound of the projectiles being deflected. A _Ki Strike _made her head reel once again, but she fought down the unsteadiness and snatched the front of the mercenary's hooded top, shoving her so that she was off-balance and whirling around to drive her heel into an unprotected abdomen.

Riven dug her giant greatsword into the frozen earth, gasping for air as she fell to one knee. "Are you… always this hospitable?"

"You shouldn't be here." She should have struck the damnable Noxian—ex or no—down, but she hesitated. For some reason, seeing the Exile's pretty face made her…

Happy.

The thought made her scowl.

"I was unaware that you owned this land." Despite the brutality she had just been subjected to, the mercenary was smiling faintly. "I had hoped to speak with you, actually."

"I have no desire to speak to the likes of _you_." Okay, that had been just a tad bit cruel and the way the taller woman's expression became guarded didn't fill Irelia with the savage glee one got from knocking down their enemy. Instead, it made her feel very, very small. She almost apologized, but instead she forged onward, "Please leave. I'm sure you have other villages to destroy."

Bright green energy flashed in dark eyes, but Riven didn't retort. She went stone-still, that unwavering, unnerving gaze fixed on the Will of the Blades. "… You don't mean that."

She bristled, more at the way this woman had seen right through her than anything. "You act as though you know me."

A chuckle. "I do. If only just a little." The Exile didn't seem surprised when she was struck again—in fact, she didn't make a move to defend herself, though _Valor _would have shielded her from the damage completely. "If this will make you feel better, so be it."

It didn't; it only made her feel worse.

With a frustrated cry, the Ionian flung herself at the other woman, knocking her onto her back and raining blows upon her face and torso, bloodying those full, pouty lips and bruising soft skin. Finally, she fell still, panting in the aftermath of her sudden assault. Each breath came out as a cloud of crystalized vapor that settled on shoulder-length white hair and the scarf wound around her throat—

That scarf…

"You kept it."

Riven turned her face to the side and spit blood onto the snow. "For what reason would I not?"

Because nothing mattered to a Noxian?

Because the silly gift was, well, silly?

Because she "hated" Riven's guts?

A dozen more responses zipped through Irelia's mind, but her mouth settled on, "Why would you?"

"It was a gift from you." Dark brown eyes were steady though she was likely in quite a bit of pain. When she made as if to sit up, the red-head straddling her waist held a blade to her throat, half a dozen others floating in the air behind her, their pointed tips also aimed directly at the mercenary, and she smiled bitterly. "How the tables have turned."

"So what if _I _gave it to you?" Irelia demanded, not to be deterred. Curiosity burned in baby blue eyes, but there was something else there as well—hope. Her heart desperately craved a certain response… But there was no way it was going to get it.

"It matters," Riven completed. _"You _matter."

The Will of the Blades blinked and the suspended weapons fell to the earth, their landing muffled by the snow. "What…?"

"You matter to me," the mercenary repeated slowly. She sat up and Irelia quickly recoiled as their faces became far too close. "I hate to admit it, but it's true."

'_Ever the hardass…'_ Irelia found herself smiling despite herself, though she quickly wiped the expression from her face in favor of a frown. "So what?"

"And I… matter to you."

Blink. "You don't sound too sure of that."

The white-haired warrior's cheeks coloured and Irelia couldn't help it—she laughed. What was it about the Exile that had her completely and utterly charmed?

"Sorry, I'm no good at this," Riven muttered, turning her face away as her cheeks burned brighter.

"Good at what?"

The question was answered with a soft, lingering kiss that made the dull, icy sensation that had filled her breast thaw into a potent mix of affection and something that ran infinitely deeper. Without thinking, she threw her arms around the warrior's shoulders, burying her face in the crook of Riven's neck as tears welled up in baby blue orbs. "Why…" Her voice broke and she made a frustrated sound. "Why now? I know who you are—I know what you did. Why would you do this to me now?"

Strong arms wrapped around her, the gesture painfully gentle and those tears threatened to overflow. "Will you allow me to speak now?"

All at once, rage broke through the confusing maelstrom of emotions—a calm eye of the storm among the howling winds that were her feelings for the white-haired woman.

"No."

A sharp pain lanced through Riven's side and spread outwards in a hot flush of discomfort as a single blade slipped neatly between her ribs, spilling crimson onto the snow, and she swore, throwing Irelia off of her and pressing a hand to her side to staunch the flow of blood. "Why…"

"For Ionia." There was a hardness to those normally gentle blue eyes that made the mercenary's heart throb painfully. "You cannot be forgiven, Noxian scum."

Then she was _Blade Surg_ing forwards, her movements alarmingly swift and deadly in their intent.

This wouldn't end well.

Riven flipped backwards just as two more blades embedded themselves in the spot where she had just been standing, brandishing her greatsword and activating _Valor_. She would bleed out if she didn't end this quickly.

"I was a mere soldier."

Irelia didn't falter, though she heard the unspoken plea in the mercenary's tone. Blades lined the spaces between her fingers and she flew at the other woman, dropping low to sweep her feet from under her with a powerful roundhouse.

She just barely managed to stumble backwards, deflecting more thrown projectiles with the flat of her blade.

"I had no choice."

The red-head's temper flared and she smashed her knee into the mercenary's stomach, following it up with a fierce uppercut to the jaw that sent the fighter sailing into the air for a brief moment before she caught herself and flipped during her return to the earth, just barely managing to land on her feet.

"We all make choices."

Dark brown eyes were agonizingly bleak. "My choice was to be loyal to my people. Surely _you _can understand that."

"…"

Anger coursed through her lithe frame once more, but this time, her weapon reacted to its mistress's ire, several long blades surging forth.

A toxic green light filled Riven's gaze and she swung her re-formed greatsword, a wall of wind energy knocking the cloud of daggers aside and forcing Irelia to cartwheel out of the way, lest she be forced aside as well.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you."

'_Huh…?'_

The Exile's _Valor _brought her closer and she flipped right into _Broken Wings, _the sharp edge of her blade just barely grazing Irelia's skin with each swing.

"I thought you would be able to forgive, but like a Noxian, you are bitter."

She bristled at the comment, but there was no time to be offended what with the immense greatsword that sought to lay her open like a trout.

"You made me this way," she spat, flipping clear of another strike. "Your people treated us like animals."

"They are no longer my people."

Finally, the flat of her blade caught the red-head and Irelia released a pained cry as she hit the ground, her ears ringing.

'_So strong…'_

Riven came to stand above her, the runes carved into the long blade glowing brightly. When she made no move to finish her opponent off, the Ionian scowled up at her.

"Make your choice."

A chuckle—what was so funny?

"I am tired of strife," the mercenary said at last. There was a dull _'thunk' _as her weapon hit the snow, followed swiftly by its mistress. She had lost far too much blood. Her eyelids fluttered, breathing slowing, and Irelia sat up, hurrying to the fallen warrior's side.

"Riven…?"

"The choice is yours," the white-haired fighter said faintly. "My life is in your hands."

And, just like that, the Exile was asleep.

As if on cue, Irelia heard the soft crunch of footsteps in snow and she swore, her loyalty to her people warring with these-these _feelings _Riven brought about.

In the end, she knew what was right.

**Karma's Temple…**

"What is _she _doing here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." A pause. "Why are you looking at me like that? I had nothing to do with her coming here."

"Are you certain everything is alright?"

"Of course."

"…"

"_What_?"

"Just be careful," she said after a long moment. "I am reporting to the Institute of War tomorrow for my Judgment. I need you to take charge of the city."

"You're still going to go through with that?" the Will of the Blades asked incredulously.

"I feel as though this is a journey I must make. Not just for Ionia, but for myself. Perhaps if our people had not been so stuck in traditions, we could have protected ourselves during the Noxian assault."

"… You intend to fight."

"For once in my life, it is my choice to do so."

She shook her head. "That's crazy."

"I have made my decision."

"But we finally have the resources we need to begin rebuilding."

"Which is why our people need your guidance."

"They need _you_ Kar. You know that."

"They need a hero."

"Tch. In any case, you're not going without me."

"Stubborn." But she was smiling slightly. "I suppose I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have you around."

"Exactly."

-w-

Riven had lost count of the days she had been imprisoned in this tiny cell, but what she _did _know was that Irelia had chosen to let her live.

That meant something… Right?

There was a noisy clanking and dark eyes flicked to the barred cell door where a timid servant was scurrying in, a basket filled with healing salves and clean cloth for bandaging slung over her arm.

Riven had lost count of the days she had been imprisoned in this tiny cell, but what she _did _know was that Irelia was avoiding her.

Why?

"Good morning, Miss Riven."

The warrior nodded her acknowledgement, lifting the hem of the green tank top she wore beneath the metal breastplate that she had removed earlier to expose the faint red line that ran along her side, curving from her waist to her hip.

Though she was used to seeing that pale expanse of flesh by now, the girl blushed. "Y-you're healing well."

"Mhmm."

There were footsteps further down the hall and the mercenary tilted her head. They weren't heavy enough to be a guard's and the only other person who ever came down here was—

"Miss Irelia! I was just tending to the prisoner—"

"Karma wants you." The annoyance in stiff shoulders projected quite clearly in her voice. It was obvious that something was on her mind. "Report to the temple immediately, please."

She allowed the shorter girl to hurry past her before turning to leave and Riven shifted, her heart stirring hopefully. This was the first time she had seen more than a mere glimpse of the Ionian and she wasn't about to lose this chance.

"Aren't you going to see to my wound? It was you who gave it to me."

A scoff. "I shouldn't have stopped at that." Despite her words, she stopped and faced the mercenary, baby blue orbs lingering for a moment too long on smooth, pale flesh. Her eyebrows drew together and the Exile smirked slightly.

Irelia wanted her—she knew that much. There was something other than disdain that blazed so passionately in cool blue eyes. So why the act? Why the refusal to face the truth?

There had been whispers that the hero of Ionia had been short-tempered and restless, the source of such turmoil being her inability to sleep. It appeared she kept waking in the wee hours of the night mumbling a certain mercenary's name…

"Still so hospitable," she remarked, shifting into a seated position on her narrow bunk so that the red-head could sit at the foot of it. She watched as Irelia began mixing salves together, pouring out a generous amount into her palms before rubbing them together. A thrill of anticipation ran through her—the Ionian had dressed her wound only once before and, after that moment of poorly-camouflaged, very heated looks and incredibly tense silence, she had stopped showing her face around the cell. "I had almost missed seeing you down here."

The Will of the Blades grunted. "Since when are you so talkative?"

"Solitude breaks the silence." She gestured expansively. "I've nothing better to do in such a place with only my thoughts for company."

"Tch." Irelia smoothed a trail of cool red healing salve over the faint mark, her expression carefully blank. When Riven stretched, muscles coiling powerfully beneath silky smooth skin, her gaze became unfocused. "Would you stay still?"

"Apologies." It was impossible to stop herself from squirming beneath that firm, lingering touch, however, and a small, pleased sound left the mercenary despite herself.

Irelia went stock-still. "I… should be on my way. Karma needs me."

"Is something on your mind? You seem troubled." She rested a hand over the one that was still resting on her hip, trying her best to meet the Ionian's suddenly-very-shifty gaze.

The red-head jumped a foot and quickly retracted her hand. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Why couldn't she just be honest?

The Exile turned to face the shorter woman, her heart beating fast beneath her breast. For some reason, that night they shared in front of the merrily crackling fire kept playing in a loop through her mind's eye—

Before her brain could catch up with her body's intentions, the fighter reached out, cupping Irelia's cheek and leaned in—slowly; she had plenty of time to resist—to kiss the red head. When slim fingers entwined in her hair, a clever tongue darting out to twist against her own, the mercenary moaned low in her throat, shifting so that she was in the red-head's lap, and returning the gesture eagerly.

Irelia very much wanted her… And Riven was just as ravenous.

Heat razed her senses, becoming a wet ache that settled between her thighs and sent tremors of pleasure through her toned form as she slipped a hand beneath the hem of the soft silk shirt the shorter woman wore, skimming upwards along her sides to remove the article…

But it appeared reality had caught up with the Will of the Blades because she pushed the white-haired warrior off of her, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. She shook her head fiercely, as though she was attempting to dislodge every impure thought that had just filled it, her eyebrows drawing together. "You and I are enemies."

"Are we?" Her voice was husky, suggestive, and the Ionian bit her lower lip. "I don't think even you believe that."

This act… Was it really how the woman felt?

"I—" Irelia rose abruptly, turning her back on Riven and exiting the cell. As the door clanged shut behind her, she stopped, but did not turn around. "Prince Jarvan IV will be here tomorrow. You'll be free to go then."

"Do you want me to go?"

"…" The red-head's shoulders tensed and she straightened her spine. "I have made my choice. Goodbye, Riven."

As the footsteps echoing down the corridor became faint, the Exile sighed and leaned back against the cold stone wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

Irelia claimed to have had her mind made up, but decisions weren't always set in stone.

Riven reached into her pocket and withdrew from it the ring of keys she had managed to filch off of the servant girl from earlier, smiling somberly as she turned the cool pieces of metal over in her hands.

The Will of the Blades would be honest with her whether she liked it or not.

**-End Chapter-**

Dun, dun, duuuuuuun! Why so srs, Irelia? WHY!?


End file.
